


somebody dial 911 (before i fall in love)

by servetas



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: First Meetings, Flirting, Lesbian Dee Reynolds, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, charlie is coming down with the gay as well which is an underrated concept in my opinion, dennis is a slut, i love the idea of out baby mac sue me, since it's canon bc i said so, tequila shots!, they don't know each other so i guess, uh, which....yeah duh, you can imagine them as whatever age you want but i think they're like. in their twenties in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21939094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servetas/pseuds/servetas
Summary: New Year's in an on itself is a weird topic. There's something nice and optimistic about entering a new year, with Dee loudly singing in his ear once the fireworks go off, him finding a random person to kiss and eventually taking them to bed – it's a ritual. And yet, the fact that it means that a whole year has gone past isn't lost on him and his fear of time.or, it's new year's eve, and dennis thinks that dee's coworker would be an extremely suitable candidate for his new year's kiss
Relationships: Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	somebody dial 911 (before i fall in love)

Dennis doesn't hate  _ New Year's _ per se.

New Year's in an on itself is a weird topic. There's something nice and optimistic about entering a new year, with Dee loudly singing in his ear once the fireworks go off, him finding a random person to kiss and eventually taking them to bed – it's a ritual. And yet, the fact that it means that a whole year has gone past isn't lost on him and his fear of time.

But, no, New Year's is great.  _ Frank,  _ on the other hand – Dennis absolutely loathes having to come to every single one of Frank's bootlicking New Year parties, hosted solely so that his business partners don't comment on his stinginess the rest of the year. He also loathes always ending up bedding one of the rich old men's daughters and having to keep in touch for at least a month so they don't end up crying to their daddies about it – as well as having to hear Frank urge Dee to flirt with said old men and their sons (although her lack of acting talent includes and is not limited to not being able to feign attraction towards men to save her life).

Dee, unlit cigarette dangling from her lips, leans back onto the fireplace. "Have you seen Charlie anywhere? I need to sweet talk him into covering my shift next week."

"I smelt him somewhere, I'm pretty sure," Dennis says, eyeing her on second thought. "I didn't know you smoke."

"Huh? Oh," she scoffs, pulling the cigarette out of her mouth, tossing it into the fire. "Some dirty old creep gave it to me. God knows what that's laced with."

"You know, I think one of them has their eye on me," he says, and Dee raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, I've been feeling eyes on me all night."

At that, Dee pauses for a brief moment, eyes panning onto the opposite side of the room – towards the kitchen. Her lips form a lazy grin, "Yeah, I think I know what you mean.  _ There _ he is!" she says, something facetious on her tone.

Sure enough, Charlie waves at them from the kitchen, Christmas sweater and wild hair, smiling brightly. Dennis mimics Dee and waves back, smile faltering when his eyes detect another person next to Charlie; another guy, hair fluffed up like Charlie's, beer in hand and eyes on Dennis.

Charlie's attention fades, and Dee observes. "Was  _ that _ the attention you were talking about?"

"Hm?" Dennis finally rips his eyes away, though he doesn't believe the guy can say the same. "What?"

Dee points towards the kitchen with her chin, feather boa around her neck tickling her jaw. "Name's Mac. If you were wondering."

Pausing for a moment, Dennis startles and turns his back towards the kitchen, scoffing at his champagne glass. "I wasn't."

"Okay, cool."

She takes a sip out of her own champagne glass – filled with beer, unbeknownst to Barbara, who would have strangled her had she known – and her eyes peruse the room (she had told Dennis before the party began that her only goal was to find a nice girl to kiss at midnight, although she confided in him that her chances were pretty slim). Dennis waits for the other shoe to drop, with a patience uncharacteristic to him, but eventually he gives in and angrily sighs.

"Who  _ is _ that guy, anyway?" he starts, feigning nonchalance, but Dee only smiles into the rim of her glass.

"Uh, Mac?  _ Duh." _

Dennis stares at her, her barely concealed laughter enough to make him crack an involuntary smile.

"Mac is the new bouncer I was telling you about," she laughs.

"The guy that fell over while doing a keg stand and spilled the whole keg?"

"That's the one," Dee shrugs a shoulder. "He and Charlie are, like, best buddies. Which is weird, because he  _ just _ started working with us a month ago and they're already planning on moving in together, and Charlie and I have been working together for  _ years _ and yet–"

"How come I've never met this guy?" Dennis interrupts, looking back at the two over his shoulder. "You introduced me to Charlie within days of meeting him."

"And we all saw how that panned out," she says, voice monotone.

Laughter bubbling out of him, Dennis takes a sip of champagne, rolling his eyes at Dee's incredulous expression. 

"You're acting as if Charlie didn't need a little bit of attention."

"I'm just saying that I don't need a repeat of the brother crushing on my only friend trope. It's cliché."

"Can we stop talking about it? I pursued it for, like, a week tops and then I saw him eating his cat food and…" he waves a dismissive hand. "And reality kicked in, blah, blah,  _ blah _ – what's this guy's deal?"

"I might be mistaken, but…" Dee furrows her eyebrows, leaning in close and comically whispering. "He appears to, for some godforsaken reason, find you attractive."

"Can you be serious? For  _ once _ in your life?"

Dee drops the act, shoulders slumping, incredulous. "I don't know what you want me to say! You need a wingman?"

Dennis, eyes panning across the room and locking with Mac's, skeptically stares at Dee's painted nails. "I don't know if I'm interested yet, Deandra. Give me some time."

"Well, it's…" she checks her watch, clumped eyelashes making it hard for her to see without squinting. "Eleven. If you wanna make out with someone on midnight, I suggest you hurry up."

"Same goes for you."

"Eh, I might ask Artemis," she shrugs. "She's always up for it."

Before he can reply, there's a firm weight on Dennis' shoulders, and then the unmistakable sound of Charlie screeching out: "Hey–o!" in his ear causes him to almost spill his champagne.

"What's up, buddy?" Dee says, punching his shoulder as a way of greeting. "Enjoying the party?"

"This party's  _ tits! _ These old guys are such perverts, you won't  _ believe," _ Charlie says, shaking his head. "Two of them have asked me if I'm a gigolo so far. I think Frank might have had something to do with it."

"The old gigolo gig," Dennis nods, all too familiar. "I'm aware of it."

"Yeah, yeah, speaking of gigs and gigolos and shit," Charlie smiles coyly, leaning into the twins. "How are you doing tonight, Dennis? I don't suppose you're lonely, right?"

Dennis exchanges a look with Dee over his head.

_ "Lonely," _ he says, not so much a question as a statement.

"Shit, scratch that…" Charlie backtracks, seemingly wracking his brain for reasons only known to him. Before Dennis can look at Dee again, Charlie beats him to it. "Oh, yeah! – Yo, Dee, I was  _ just _ thinking to myself, as I do sometimes– How  _ wild _ was it Saturday night at the bar?" he screeches the last part, like he wants to put emphasis to it, volume unstable.

Dee pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, forehead creasing. She says, "I mean– Pretty wild, yeah. It was alright."

"Oh, man, Dennis you should have been there– Hey, Dee," beer spilling from his red solo cup, "do you happen to remember that  _ super sweet _ keg stand  _ Mac _ did?" brief glance towards Dennis. "Man, that was  _ awesome, _ huh?"

Dee's shoulders seize with laughter, knowing eyes bulging at Dennis. "I don't know, buddy. You mean when he bathed in the beer? 'Cause I remember  _ that." _

"Bathed in the beer,  _ bathed _ in the goddamn  _ beer," _ Charlie mutters through hushed laughter, glaring at Dee and shaking his head at Dennis. "Dee, always the jokester, yeah? I do not recall him knocking the keg over if that's what you mean, Dee."

"Are you sure? Because I definitely remember him falling on his–"

"No, no, pretty sure!" he interrupts. "Absolutely positive! That was one  _ sweet _ keg stand!" he laughs forcibly, elbowing her in the ribs. "Oh, sorry, Dennis, I don't think you've met Mac, have you?"

Dennis glances towards the kitchen, where Mac is gazing out of the window above the sink, and fondly smiles to himself. "I haven't, no."

“Aw, that’s a shame, huh? Mac’s a super sweet guy to know,” Charlie pauses, allows Dennis to stare for a while longer. Reluctantly, he adds: “Great in bed, too.”

Dennis raises a brow. “Pardon?”

“He’s, uh– He’s great in…” Charlie tries to mime banging, but eventually gives up. He clears his throat, “I’m thirsty.”

Dee scoffs. “You’re holding a fucking drink.”

“Whoops,” he replies, pointedly, just before he spills it all over the carpet. “Oh, no. Spilled.”

“Goddamn it, Charlie!” Dee shrieks. “Watch out for the shoes, man!”

“Is it hot in here?” Charlie continues, desperate eyes regarding Dennis. “I could  _ really _ use a drink right now. If only  _ someone _ could go to the  _ kitchen _ and get me a drink.”

Silence, during which Dennis stares at Charlie as if he’s grown two heads. It’s all too absurd to be awkward, and the fact that Mac is just sitting in the kitchen like an asshole the entire exchange only adds on to it.

“Fine, I’ll go get you a drink,” Dee pipes up finally, trying to bite back a smile. “I need to go talk to Mac about covering my shift next week, anyway.”

“Uh,  _ no!” _ Charlie screeches, stepping onto her foot in an attempt to still her, although she never even started moving. Dee, as expected, yells at him, but he ignores her in favor of saying: “You– You need to stay here! We need to talk– bar shit and…  _ other _ shit.”

“What’s going on here, man?” Dennis laughs, incredulous as all hell.

“Tell you what,” Dee raises her glass. “I’ll stay here and talk shit with you, as well as send Dennis to the kitchen to get you your stupid fucking drink– If you do me a solid and cover my shift next week so I can ask out that cute waitress down the street,” she chews on the inside of her cheek, toying with her feather boa.

Murderous glint in his eye, Charlie glares at her for what seems like a full minute, eventually biting onto his bottom lip until it chips.  _ “Fine,” _ and a forced smile. “I’ll cover your goddamn shift, you manipulative bitch. How about that drink?”

“Dennis,” she says, content smile on her face.

“Okay, I’m glad  _ this _ is done,” Dennis says, clapping Charlie on the back, and pushing himself away from the fireplace. 

Slowly, he walks towards the kitchen, and Mac’s still staring down the sink like he’s waiting for Dennis to emerge from the gutter, his own cup in hand.

Feigning nonchalance, Dennis opts to stand right next to him and kneel down in front of the cabinet, shuffling around for whatever the fuck might be in here – Barbara has the maids rearrange every little goddamn detail around the house every so often, as some sort of sick show of power. It’s admirable, to say the least.

Finally, he stands upright with a wine bottle in his hand, and he can see Mac is about to open his mouth from the corner of his eye, so he beats him to it: “A little birdie told me you’re great in bed.”

Mac falters, cheeks tinting pink. “Excuse me?”

“What? Oh, nothing,” Dennis waves a dismissive hand, turning his body sideways so that they’re facing each other. “I was just… talking to myself,” he adds, and then offers a hand forward. “I’m Dennis, Dee’s brother.”

“Mac,” he stammers, grasping the offered hand – not too firm, but not too soft. Dennis stares at where they join. “Dee’s coworker.”

“Weird we haven’t met before, Mac,” Dennis leans a hip on the counter flirtatiously, and doesn’t miss the way that Mac tries to mimic his stance – leaning an arm on the countertop instead. His biceps pop – which is merely interesting. “Unless we have, in which case I’ve made an ass out of myself.”

Mac laughs, a pleasant titter. “I think I would have  _ definitely _ remembered if we’d met,” he says, easy, shrugging as Dennis smiles.

“How come? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Instead of answering, Mac just sighs, shaking his head: “Just…  _ please _ tell me Charlie didn’t make me sound like  _ too _ much of an asshole.”

“Charlie’s not the brightest,” Dennis shrugs, fingers tapping against the wine bottle. “Don’t stress, man. I’m just hoping I can get you to do at least one keg stand by the end of this party.”

Mac stares for a second, and then he points at the wine, nervously biting at the inside of his cheek. “Can I have a bunch of that?”

Dennis leaves it on the counter, opening the top cabinet and slamming a bottle of tequila down, accompanied with two shot glasses. “I’ve got something better for you,” hs shrugs, sliding over the salt shaker. "This would've been cooler if I had any limes handy, but… We'll have to make do."

Mac laughs, leaning closer as Dennis pours them each a shot. He clears his throat, "So. How come I've never seen you around the bar?”

“What, Paddy’s?” Dennis snorts, shaking his head. “No offence, man – but Paddy’s is a late night hotspot for perverts and rapists,” he screws up the bottle, Mac’s breath hot on the side of his neck. He swallows. “Objectively speaking.”

Mac hums, breathy chuckle emitting hot breath. “You’re not too far off. I can’t tell you how many spackos I had to kick out last week alone.”

Dennis glances at him. “You beat people up, huh?”

Mac’s cheeks go pink again, which might be an indication that Dennis might have sounded a little bit  _ too _ horny. To hell with it, he thinks. This year is gonna be behind him soon.

"Let's do some shots before I say more things I regret," he says, since Mac looks too mortified to talk. As an afterthought, he picks up the salt shaker and looks at him over his shoulder. "I swear I'm not always this slutty, by the way. The new year must be getting it out of me." And then, as if to prove a point, he pours some salt onto the upside of his palm; licking a stripe across it without breaking eye contact.

Mac titters again, biting on the inside of his cheek, incredulous. "I'd say I don't mind, but…" he shrugs, sheepish. "I think it's too early for that."

"It's almost midnight," Dennis says, then knocks back his shot jerkily. Offering the other one to Mac, his eyes catch a bit of black ink on his arm, and he grins to himself.

"Speaking of…" Mac pauses, knocking back his own as if to put emphasis. Hissing through the burn, with a sly grin plastered on his face: "Wanna make out on midnight?"

Dennis takes the empty shot glass out of his hand, pouring out another one wordlessly. "Why wait?" he says coyly; Mac exhales a chuckle, practically glued on his back. "You forgot to lick the salt, man."

"Aw, shit."

"Yeah, bummer…" Dennis pours some salt on the slick part of his palm. Wordlessly, he hands Mac the shot – smoothly offers his hand forward.

Mac looks at it for a while, as if it's too overwhelming to think about. He glances up at Dennis, with a look so vibrant and wild it sends a chill down his spine, and then his tongue peeks out; it licks a fat stripe along Dennis' hand, leaving a burning, slick trail on his skin.

He's still buffering for a second after, and Dennis' mouth forms a huge, shit–eating grin – so Dennis bumps his knuckles against the bottom of the shot, skin tingling as they brush up against Mac's hand. Mac snaps out of it, eyes shining as he knocks back his second one.

"I couldn't help but notice the ink on your arm," Dennis begins. It's coy enough that it sounds like not that big of a deal, and Mac checks his own arm, as if it's new information. "Tribal?"

With a little smile, Mac reaches an arm around him and pours out a shot, forearm firm against his hip. "Yeah," he says, and pushes the shot against Dennis' lips; which open up, letting the tequila rush down his throat.

It's, without a doubt, surreal.

"Jesus, man, this is so hot," Mac says. He abandons the shot glass and unglues his body from Dennis' back long enough for Dennis to turn around, his back now pressed against the counter. Mac's hands frame his hips on the countertop. "Are you always this forward?"

"You must be getting it out of me," Dennis shrugs. He omits that he is definitely,  _ absolutely _ always this forward. "As I said before: Charlie mentioned you are  _ fantastic _ in bed."

"Did he?" Mac raises his eyebrows, taken by surprise. He backtracks. "I mean– Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't he? It's true."

Dennis resists the urge to laugh. Something tells him it'd be extremely inappropriate and/or offensive in the given moment. "Does he know from experience?"

"Who, Charlie?" Mac chews on his cheek, fingers tapping on the countertop. "Almost. If you want a review or something, ask him about my kissing skills." 

Dennis' nose scrunches up the tiniest bit.

"That was a  _ long _ time ago. Before I saw him eating cat food."

"I don't blame you, anyhow," Dennis toys with the hem of Mac's muscle tee, looking down at it coyly. "Charlie's kinda cute when he's not feral."

Mac stares. "Are you trying to talk me into a threesome?"

"What? No!" Dennis scoffs, pulling him closer by his shirt. "Let's stop talking about Charlie if– if you're gonna get sidetracked. Let's talk about your sweet bis instead. You work out?"

As Mac laughs, Dennis hears the unmistakable sound of people counting down, yelling and whistling. Mac hears it, too, and he grins, stammering: "I do– I mean… Yeah, I do work out,  _ obviously." _

_ "Obviously," _ Dennis licks his teeth, tapping his fingers near Mac's hand on the counter as people in the living room continue to yell.  _ Nineteen, eighteen, seventeen… _ "You can stop flexing, man."

Mac scoffs. "What? I'm not flexing, bro, this is… my natural state of armness."

"You sure? Because these veins on your forehead are looking kinda–"

"I'm sure, I'm  _ absolutely _ sure, Dennis," Mac says, face and neck flushed. "You were saying something about my bis, I think– You were about to say something."

"Hm?" Dennis looks up from Mac's biceps, the flexing of which may or may not annoy him as much as he claims. "Oh, no. I'm done."

"Are you sure?"  _ Ten, nine, eight… _ "Because I– I could have sworn you were about to say something else–"

"Mm, no. Not at all," Dennis says, thoughtful. "I was– I distinctly remember being done speaking."

"Well, do you wanna hear–"

"No, I think–" Dennis shakes his head. "I've established you're, like… hot. Toned."

_ Three, two, one… _

In a split second, Mac manages to look exasperated, fond, and humorous; Dennis doesn't have enough time to appreciate his expression, because he surges forward and plants a much awaited kiss on Dennis' mouth – hands still casually supporting his weight onto the countertop, either way of Dennis' hips.

Faintly listening to the confetti pop and people singing, Dennis bunches up the fabric of Mac's shirt into his hands, heart beating in his throat; he opts to rub a trail along Mac's chest and his shoulder, then decides to grasp onto the back of his neck, growing frustrated with the lack of touching from Mac's part.

He breaks apart, remaining close enough for their lips to brush together. "C'mon, man, touch me," Dennis murmurs, and Mac brushes a single thumb under his shirt, on the bare skin of his hip. "You've established your coolness by now, dude."

"You never know when to shut your mouth, do you?" Mac scoffs, quickly adding on when Dennis makes to open his mouth: "If you say  _ make me,  _ I'm going to make out with your mom instead."

Dennis, letting his mouth fall closed, smiles sheepishly as Mac laughs and leans forward again; his mouth is slick and plump, and his hands are resting on either side of Dennis' hips, radiating warmth.

And, objectively speaking, that's a pretty solid way of starting the new year.


End file.
